With blackness of the night, exhaustless, there.
A woman, passion-pale, with gems like rain,
Leans listless by stone parapets, again
Lifts arms voluptuous toward where afar
A rider’s armor shines beneath a star,
Her jewels all a-shiver as a pearl
When into ocean depths the sun-rays whirl.
XLIV
To-night a magic sail, Love, is your hair
That wafts o’er waters that know not the sun,